Fears || T.D.

01. | tim || reality

The retired boy wonder tapped rapidly against a wavering keyboard, the screen of the computer reflecting the loss of sleep in his murky eyes. The light danced vividly in dramatic colors across the bridge of his nose, each word he typed appearing clearly along rough skin. Continuing to falter in and out of focus, he steadily traced the buttons as he examined numerous headlines, the horrid activities of monstrous humans paving their way across the pixels. His research felt more urgent than what'd he'd detected at first, and his head began to ache at the idea of someone playing him as a fool.

Tim Drake, aware of his pure immobility to rise up from the faux leather recliner, arranged his position to address the cramping nagging him to clamber to the bed not far from his vexatious arrangement. Scoping his bedroom throughly, he decided against the comfort of his sheets, instead bending to again brush his fingertips to the machine upon his lap. Through thick lashes, he noted the electric photos blending with phrases of the newscasters portrayed as local webpages arose on his browser.

Because the device obscured the walls in front of the junior detective, and instantly occupied his anxious attention, he didn't consider the figure looming above him, frowning. "It's passed your bedtime."

Taken aback by the deep grumble, the brunette absentmindedly flung the laptop to his calf, slightly bruising his pant-less leg and ripping the cord free of its prisoned wall socket. "Shit!"

Malaki Vaughn chuckled at his partner's mistake, swiftly placing an olive palm to his cheek, whilst the other momentarily distributed the flying object to the ground. Tendrils of gold fell across the chiseled features studying the exhausted teenager before him, and Tim pushed them behind his ear and replied, "Yeah, guess it is."

He lazily smirked, a lopsided work of art drenched in the fluorescent glow from the lampposts drowning the street in yellow illumination. Outside, the rest of Gotham was sleeping in their silent homes, content with the civility they adopted at birth.

The two boys awake at this moment were much different.

"I'm guessing whatever you were doing was pretty important, huh, babe?" Malaki gingerly rested a soft forehead to his lover's own, massaging Tim's back as he did whenever it seemed the previous Robin was stressed over a new case that evolved within the hour he finished clearing another. One time after another, the city went vaguely wrong. "You know, the bed sounds really good right now."

"It does, but.."

Tim exhaled sharply, relocating his chin to Malaki's broad shoulder supplied perfectly in place. He could tell his boyfriend's lips curled downward once more, and his motions slowed to a pause, "What is it?"

"I'm just thinking."

"You do that a lot."

"Sounds unusual of me, huh?" He joked, though the blonde was unamused as he slid away from the silhouette, and crossing his arms abruptly, gifted him an aggravated eyebrow raise.

"Tim.."

"Mal, I think I'm going to patrol tonight. Something just doesn't feel right." Tim lowered his gaze, anywhere but the void of brown glaring directly at him, accusing him of something not even a genius could decipher.

"Talk to me."

"There's been some.. accidents? If that's even the right word, and, well, lately it's been hard to enforce everything with.." Tim gulped, and his voice cracked to a low whisper, "with Bruce.. gone."

"What about Dick?" Sometimes, Malaki got a child-like hope to his dusky irises, this gleam that wished for Tim to stay, just once, so that he didn't endure the seconds ticking down to the demise of the only person to ever love him. And every single time, it broke Tim's heart.

Because he never obeyed.

But with Bruce's impetuous disappearing act swallowing the thought of reunion, and death being the reason as to why, Tim didn't have time for relaxation, and neither did the crew behind him. Dick Grayson was stuck in the role of his aforementioned guardian to protect the world's low buzzing of the strange ripple in Gotham, and the rest were preparing to accept the same fate once the original became a lost cause.

Dick was much too busy, and much too young, to cure Tim's almost certainly irrelevant concerns, and his accomplice, the newest Robin, was not far behind.

"He's in a completely different city."

"Damn."

"I'm sorry." And Tim was. He really was.

Malaki numbly sank to the carpet, shaking his head nonchalantly and, glowering at the closet worn of distressed wood across from him, stated, "I'm coming with you."

Tim ignored his request, limply swinging his aching body away from the sulking shadow and towards the hidden area where his costume neatly hung. "No."

"Why not?"

"Well.." The truth was, Tim had multiple, and rational, examples to prove his conclusion. Though, he rarely found a reason to lie to his companion, the personal excuses were far too terrible to evaluate aloud. "It's just a bad idea."

Assuming the exaggerated predictions of the certified hero proved legitimate, this nightly routine was highly off-limits to Malaki, and his unstable personality. In the best possible way, he was a catastrophic hurricane attempting a slight drizzle. Mentally incapable, yes, but he tried his best to meet Tim's expectations.

The semi-warrior was something of a mystery to the people around him, including Tim's own adopted family. Malaki grew up learning to battle wars on his own, and it wasn't until he met the sidekick that he finally had an alliance. And, he learned what home was supposed to feel like, homes that didn't include violence and hate and failed acceptance.

Malaki Vaughn feared too much.

Tim hesitated, debating what he would say if Malaki refused to value his guidance.

Which, of course, he didn't.

"I promise I won't get in the way."

Timothy Jackson Drake never felt so helpless, and many occurrences have proceeded to make him feel as such. But when taking in the sight of Malaki, all he could puzzle together was the damaged profile of an abused youth. His bronze eyes turned smoky and the strands of long hair became unevenly shaved and his tanned skin grew pale and scarred. Of course, now he was healthy and fit, and the blood loss seemed to cease, but all Malaki was ever told was that he got in the way, and repeating those words brought Tim back to who he used to be.

"Malaki, you know that isn't the reason."

"Then give me a better one."

"Your safety."

Malaki let out a harsh laugh, rising to his feet. "My safety? Tim, do you even think about your own safety? Do you even realize how much I worry about you? How many times you've almost died and there was nobody there to let me know if you were okay?"

Tim didn't look up. "Yes."

"I've handled shit, just let me be with you for a little while. Before you leave again for whatever top-secret journey you go on. Please."

He made it impossible for Tim to say no.